Page 52 of To Treasure an Heiress
Ainsley stood, shaking his head. But a starlit smile played on his lips. “I’m not quite certain how the conversation has taken this turn, but I’m going to go in to bed before any stray bolts of lightning come this way. Good night, my lord.”
“Night.”
Ainsley started for the side gate that connected the Tremayne garden to the Dawes’. But he paused a few steps away. “And thank you. For protecting my family, but also ... I needed that reminder about being an instrument in God’s hands.”
Sheridan grinned. “Don’t thank me. Thank my valet. All wisdom is his.”
“See, I told you I heard voices back here.”
Sheridan spun in his chair at Telford’s voice, raising his brows when he saw not only him but Tremayne rounding the house from the front, both still in their dinner dress. “What are you two doing out in the middle of the night?”
“We heard a few noises from the general direction of Piper’s Hole while we were walking Libby to the Moons’.” Tremayne nodded a greeting to Ainsley, who gave a wave of farewell and then proceeded through the gate, and pulled out a chair. “So, we decided to investigate, given all the shenanigans there this summer.”
“I don’t suppose you found Scofield hiding out by the pool.” Sheridan used his foot to push a third chair away from the table for Telford.
“No, just the burnt remains of a few crackers.” Telford shook his head. “Lads enjoying their third-term break. Or seizing the opportunity to celebrate their headmaster’s engagement with a bit of mischief.”
Tremayne grinned. “They should have lit them on Wearne’s doorstep.”
Telly snorted. “You’re friends now, remember.”
“Ah. Right. Easy to forget.”
Sheridan shook his head. It was that rivalry between Oliver Tremayne and Casek Wearne that had, in a strange way, convinced Telly that Tremayne was deserving of Libby’s heart. He’d tossed himself in front of a bullet to save Wearne’s life, after all, even though they’d been lifelong enemies.
Just imagine what lengths he’d go to for the lady who held his heart.
Perhaps Telford was remembering the same thing. He looked for a moment at their host, his gaze thoughtful. Then glanced toward Sheridan and donned a crooked smile. “Have you exercised your brotherly duty yet on Sheridan, Oliver?”
“Hm?” Tremayne had been looking up at the stars but lowered his head at the question. “What duty is that?”
“Trying to scare him away from your sister. Making certain his intentions are honorable.”
Sheridan’s ears grew hot, but at least the darkness concealed any accompanying redness.
Besides, Tremayne chuckled, sounding utterly unconcerned. Thatwas a relief. Or was it a bad sign? Did he think Sheridan’s chances with Beth so slim that they needn’t even be addressed?
“I believe our friend’s intentions have been made quite clear, given that proposal the other week.”
Sheridan lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Just to pat out any flames that had sprung up. “It was aretractionof a proposal, thank you very much.”
“And I don’t have any reason to think him after her dowry.” This Oliver delivered dryly, with a pointed look at Telford that arrowed even through the darkness.
Of course, Telly just batted it away. “Even so. Shouldn’t you be sounding out his faith? That ought to be rather important to a vicar, I’d think.”
Sheridan blew out a breath. It was one thing to insist to his valet that he was neither heathen nor heretic. He wasn’t certain his musings on the ancient Christian mystics would hold up so well with a vicar, though. “Whose side are you on, Bram?”
“He’s just punishing you for not making a protest over my stealing Libby from you.”
No doubt Oliver was right about that. But how was Sheridan supposed to have insisted Libby marry him when it was clear that she was in love with Oliver Tremayne? And when Sheridan didn’t reallywantto marry her? And when Beth collided with him and knocked all thoughts of any other woman from his head? “Blame the love potion.”
His old friend blinked at him. Puzzled it out. “You were reading the Tristan and Isolde story, I suppose.”
Sheridan grinned and leaned back to study the stars again. “And for the record, Tremayne, I’m not a heathen.”
“I should think not.”
“Nor a heretic, as I was just explaining to Ainsley before you joined us.”
